


Mending & Alterations

by windandthestars



Category: The Newsroom (US TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Tailor Shop, F/M, Lawyer Will, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-19
Updated: 2019-07-19
Packaged: 2020-07-08 14:07:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19870870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/windandthestars/pseuds/windandthestars
Summary: “You have something to say to me.” It wasn’t a question. She liked that. “Go ahead.” He gestures for her to continue but she waits, waits because she didn’t need his permission, even if he seemed to assume she thought she did.___Because sometimes you're nine feet tall and still need your pants hemmed. Tailor/seamstress AU. Will's a cranky lawyer, Maggie's panicking, Mac saves the day and tells him off.





	Mending & Alterations

**Author's Note:**

> Brought to you by the fact that sometimes when you try and decide what the least plausible job for a character is you end up with an AU. 
> 
> Warnings for minor language.

“You’re an ass.” She informs him calmly watching the way he’s turned to take in the rest of the shop, the tiny sliver of retail space she managed to afford.

“I didn’t know people still did custom tailoring outside of dry cleaners or dress shops.” He says pleasantly like he hadn’t heard her, although his raised eyebrows suggest that he had. “I imagine customer service—”

She snorts at that, quietly, but audibly which seems to finally get his attention.

“You have something to say to me.” It wasn’t a question. She liked that. “Go ahead.” He gestures for her to continue but she waits, waits because she didn’t need his permission, even if he seemed to assume she thought she did.

“You didn’t need me to hem your pants.”

“I needed someone to hem my pants.”

“You could have stapled them.”

“They’re two hundred—”

“I know how much they cost.” They were nice pants, very nice pants, but that hardly justified the panic Maggie had felt practically running into the shop that morning.

Half an hour she’d said. Her boss had to leave for court in half an hour and she’d brought him the wrong pants. They were new, too long. It didn’t make any sense how could they be too long, he was so tall. Could she help? Could she please help?

Mac had suggested safety pins, double sided tape, staples, watching each suggestion draw an increasingly panicked look from Maggie.

She couldn’t just leave the shop. She’d tried to keep the reminder gentle, if she brought her the pants— but there wasn’t time for that Maggie was already insisting. What did she bring in in an hour, fifty bucks, a hundred; she’d pay that for the half hour, just please—

And so Mac had gone, taped a sign on the front window saying she’d be back at nine, and followed Maggie several blocks up the street to a large brick building.

She’d tacked the pants in a couple of spots along the hem, quick whip stitches she’d promised to replace later. She’d even promised to have them done by the end of the day if he swapped pants when they broke for lunch and Maggie dropped them off.

Maggie had. She’d dropped the pants off with a wad of twenties and a grateful smile. Mac had expected to see her again, had expected her to be the one hovering in the door as she got ready to close up, but he’d waltzed in at half past seven and leaned back against the wall wearing the jeans she’d first seen him in.

“Are they done?”

She sets the bag on the counter, the pants neatly pressed and laid inside.

“My assistant said I wouldn’t find a better tailor in the city.”

“You better not for the price she paid.” Mac had talked her down, agreed on three times her normal price, fifty bucks for what would normally be a ten minute job. She wasn’t happy about that, about Maggie’s insistence, at how vehemently she’d balked at the idea of her boss paying to hem his own pants. Maggie had made a mistake. It happened, but she hadn’t been interested in any of that.

Prickly she’d said with a certainty that Mac knew meant that was a massive understatement. He won’t fire you over a pair of pants, she’d insisted but Maggie hadn’t looked convinced and now here she was standing before the man himself.

“She shouldn’t have.” Mac watches him pull out his wallet. “How much—”

“She already paid. You’re covered.”

“She comes in here all the time doesn’t she? She seemed to know you.”

Mac raises her eyebrows, waits.

“Give her store credit or buy her a thing from that place around the corner.”

“Which place?”

“The bakery. She likes donuts doesn’t she? Everybody likes donuts.”

“You don’t seem too sure about that.”

“I don’t always pay that much attention—”

“To?” She prompts but he seems to be content to stop there.

“I’m sorry for the inconvenience this morning must have cost you.”

“Mmm.” Mac nods, managing to hold her tongue.

“I know—”

He stops when she smiles, but she’s not smiling in gratitude, she’s smiling to stop herself from laughing because that would be a step too far, she knows that.

“You don’t have to apologize. To me. You should apologize to Maggie. Your secretary.” She adds for emphasis when he seems surprised by the suggestion. “Who you seem to think is your personal assistant. She’s studying to be a paralegal you know.”

He did, Maggie had mentioned that that was why he’d hired her in the first place, but the whole thing is confusing him.

“I’m a nice guy.”

That seems to be all he can come up with which doesn’t entirely surprise her. She’s heard the stories of course, the ones Maggie was only too happy to share when she’d had a bit too much to drink, but even that doesn’t quite explain what she’s feeling watching him struggle to come up with something to say.

“Start acting like it.” She suggests easily without the malice she thinks he might be expecting. “She’s a nice person and she likes you enough to stick around. It’d be a shame to lose her.”

“I,” he pauses to slide his wallet back in his pocket. “What should I say?”

“Maggie, I’m sorry about yesterday morning. My pants shouldn’t have been your responsibility. You shouldn’t have had to go find a tailor. I’m sorry.” She peters off softly realizing that he’d really meant what he’d asked. “You could start with ‘I’m sorry about the whole pants thing.’”

“And,” she sighs a little, relenting, before continuing, “ _I’m_ sorry. I’m being a bit of a jerk. Today could’ve been a big day I just assumed— I don’t like people picking on Maggie.”

“Protective?” He asks not refuting her assumption, but it isn’t that simple.

“It’s— loyalty, maybe.” She says instead of agreeing. “She’s been stopping in here for a long time.”

“About a year and a half, sixteen months.” He suggests with a certainty that surprises her.

“It’s complicated.” He continues, replying to the careful way she leans forward to rest her elbows on the counter between them. “I’m cranky on the best of days. Maggie’s—”

He searches for a word and she smiles, suggests, “Karen?”

“She told you about that?”

“That’s when I decided you were an ass.”

“Well in that case I appreciate the dressing down. I clearly deserve it.”

“Mmm,” she frowns, exaggerated, “learn to apologize. The humility will be good for you.”

“So I’m an arrogant ass?”

“Yep.” She grins at that. “Pay Maggie back for the pants yourself and if you bring your own pants in next time I’ll buy you a donut from the place around the corner.”

“All right.” He considers. “I might have to take you up on that. Everybody loves a good donut.”


End file.
